


Underneath the Mistletoe

by tehfanglyfish



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Learns About Winter Social Customs, But That Doesn't Mean That Things Don't Work Out For Merlin and Arthur's Friends, Canon Era, Deviates From Canon, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, In This House We Love And Support The Mistletoe Trope, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Mistletoe, The Mistletoe Is A Powerful Force, This Is Primarily A Merthur Fic, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehfanglyfish/pseuds/tehfanglyfish
Summary: After Gwen tells Arthur about the custom of kissing under the mistletoe, all he can think about is how it would be a nice way to work up the courage to finally kiss Merlin. It's too bad that Merlin is pining after someone else. And to make matters worse, rogue mistletoe keeps appearing in Arthur's chambers.Also known as the one where Arthur pines for Merlin, Gwen makes a move, Merlin's magic has a mind of its own, and Percival and Gwaine get a much-needed push.
Relationships: Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Gwen/Leon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 720





	Underneath the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the love of these fictional dorks and the others who also love them - never for profit.

“No. That can’t be true.”

“It is, I swear.”

“People kiss each other because they’re standing underneath a cutting from a plant? Even strangers?”

“Arthur, where have you been living?”

“In the castle. Where we don’t let foliage dictate our behavior.”

It wasn’t a secret to anyone who knew him well that Arthur was painfully unaware of many social customs, his title bringing status but also isolation. Some practices he could figure out through simple observation, but this kissing tradition wasn’t one of them.

That was why only a few minutes before, he had tried to discretely draw Guinevere’s attention to the two Rising Sun patrons who had first exposed him to it. A man and a woman, one leaving and the other entering, didn’t appear to know one another or have any obvious connection. Yet they had paused in the tavern doorway to share a kiss, smiling and pressing their lips together as if it was perfectly normal before resuming their business.

Arthur had thought they were mad, but Guinevere simply laughed at him before explaining their behavior.

Apparently it _was_ normal to share a kiss this way, provided that it happened during the build up to Yule and the participants were standing under a sprig of mistletoe.

“Maybe that’s how things are in the royal wing,” Guinevere continued, “but you should be careful if you wander toward the entrances to the laundry and kitchens. George refuses to go to either after a run-in with Winifred.”

“The head washerwoman?”

“She’d been stalking him for days – it was like a wolf tracking a deer.”

“Poor George.”

Arthur meant it. He took a sip from his ale as he contemplated the horror of being accosted by Winifred. Yes, Arthur was trying to build a fair and just kingdom, but that didn’t mean there was a need to reject all personal boundaries.

It seemed he hadn’t done a good job of hiding his reaction because Guinevere laughed at him again.

“I’m glad you came out with me,” she said. “This is the most fun I’ve had all week.”

“Well, I couldn’t allow a lady to spend an evening on her own.”

It was kind of Guinevere not to point out that _he_ was the one who would have been facing a night alone after Gaius dragged Merlin off to help him with a seriously ill patient. Of course, Arthur was proud of how skilled Merlin had become as a healer’s assistant, but that didn’t stop him from feeling secretly annoyed and a little hurt that he had essentially been abandoned.

Thankfully, Guinevere was a devoted friend who had figured out his predicament on her own. He appreciated her efforts at keeping him from moping about his chambers all night.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know about mistletoe.”

“Where would I find out? My father never mentioned it.”

“Probably because no one wanted to find themselves stuck with him underneath a sprig. I bet everyone made sure to keep a respectful twenty paces behind the king around Yule.”

“You’re probably right. Anyway, you remember how strict he was about who I could socialize with.”

“You’re lucky he made Merlin your servant – that saved you from a life of being stuck up and boring.”

Arthur hoped his cheeks didn’t reveal how warm he felt. He was grateful for Merlin’s presence in his life, but Guinevere had no idea just how far his feelings went. Or maybe she did. The one time he had kissed her, she told him that he was nice but she wasn’t a homewrecker, ending their courtship before it had even begun.

“What about you?” he asked, deciding it was best to change the subject away from Merlin. “Has anyone cornered you under the mistletoe?”

“There have been attempts, all thwarted. Tyr from the stables is very sweet but he’s not…”

She trailed off, pink creeping across her face.

“Not what? Or rather, not who?”

She smiled, her blush deepening as she shook her head.

“Guinevere, I thought you were my friend. And friends share secrets with one another. I will be heartbroken if you don’t tell me.”

She turned to face him, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I will tell you but on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You have to tell me who it is _you_ want to wind up with under the mistletoe.”

“No one.”

He knew he’d said it far too quickly to be convincing.

“That can’t be true. There has to be someone _._ ”

Oh there was someone. Someone who Arthur was pretty sure possessed the most kissable lips in all the five kingdoms. Not that Arthur had tested his theory. Doing so would require the revelation of feelings, which would ruin a friendship. Then there would not only be a lack of kissing, but also an absence of banter, horseplay, and soft moments when Arthur could forget the burden of the throne.

He sighed wistfully and pondered his ale.

“You should tell him,” Guinevere said, clasping his free hand resting on the table.

“Tell who what?”

Her reply was forgotten as the door to the tavern opened.

“Hurry up. I’m about to freeze my bollocks off.”

Arthur swiveled on the bench, following her gaze to where Percival stood in the tavern doorway. Despite Gwaine’s complaints about the cold, Percival refused to move, maintaining his position as if waiting for something. From just behind Gwaine, Arthur could see Leon.

“Apparently it’s the evening for daft knights,” Guinevere muttered.

“Percival, Gwaine, over here,” she called above the din of the room. “See you later, Arthur. There’s something I have to do.”

Pulling on her shawl, Guinevere stood, leaving Arthur behind as she strode toward the door, pushing through the throng of Rising Sun patrons. Her pace quickened, almost approaching a run as Gwaine finally made it inside.

She came to an abrupt halt when she reached the doorway. Leon had just started to walk through when Guinevere gently took him by the arm to stop his progress. Arthur didn’t think he’d ever seen her face turn quite so red, and yet, as brave as any knight, she gestured to the mistletoe tacked to the doorframe. Leon looked up, then back at Guinevere, and, turning an even deeper shade of red, smiled before leaning down to kiss her.

It was, Arthur reflected to himself, a much longer kiss than the one he’d witnessed earlier that night.

Whatever plans Leon had for the tavern seemed to be abandoned, as he and Guinevere, hands clasped, wandered out into the night.

“About damn time,” Gwaine said as he sat on the bench beside Arthur. “She’s been trying to catch him for days but he didn’t notice. Imagine being that dense.”

“Imagine indeed,” said Percival, as he took his place across from them, downing Guinevere’s unfinished pint in one gulp.

“Well,” Arthur said to no one in particular, “this night certainly has been educational.”

Even though it was getting late, he decided to stick around to see what else he might learn.

**********

The next morning Merlin had returned from his mission with Gaius, hustling a slightly hungover Arthur out of bed.

“I’ve told you to never try to outdrink Gwaine,” Merlin chided as he offered Arthur water.

“Wasn’t trying to. Guinevere and I got there hours before Gwaine and Percival arrived. It would’ve been rude to leave as soon as they showed up.”

“Ah, so this morning’s misery is simply the by-product of politeness gone wrong.”

“Exactly,” Arthur said as he made his way to the table. Thankfully, Merlin had left the richer foods covered. “Anyway, I know why you spend so much time at the tavern now. You can learn a lot there.”

“Such as?”

“Mistletoe,” Arthur said before taking a bite out of a roll.

“Mistletoe?”

“Apparently it’s customary to hang sprigs of it before Yule so that lovers _and_ strangers can kiss underneath it.”

“And you only learned that last night?”

“Yes, Merlin. Help yourself to the bacon. There’s no way I’ll be able to keep it down.”

“Lovely,” Merlin replied before digging in. “Learn anything else?”

“Lots. There’s a strategy to mistletoe. If you’re fast enough, you can catch someone under it, and they have to kiss you.”

It was that particular detail that had kept Arthur out far later than he had planned. Guinevere wanted to kiss Leon, so she caught him under the mistletoe. If Arthur could do with the same with Merlin, then he would have an excuse to kiss him without divulging those bothersome feelings.

Although that led to some serious ethical questions about consent and manipulation. Was it wrong to use the mistletoe as a way to kiss one’s best friend when one was secretly in love with said best friend? Especially when said best friend couldn’t possibly feel the same way?

One too many pints and Arthur still hadn’t figured it out. He wanted a low-stakes way to kiss Merlin, but he also wanted Merlin to want to be kissed.

“They don’t _have_ to.”

“They don’t?”

That was news.

“People often do because of the custom, but it’s not obligatory.”

“But Guinevere said that Winifred caught George…”

“It was more like she jumped him before he could get away. Audrey went after her with a ladle for it.”

“So, saying that someone wasn’t like Winifred, and they wound up under the mistletoe with a person they didn’t want to kiss…”

“They could offer a kiss on the cheek or a hug. Or they could pretend they didn’t see it or keep walking or…”

“I guess that means Gwaine…”

“Was he trying to catch Percival?”

“The other way, actually.”

“Then they’re both oblivious – I’ve been watching them try and fail to corner each other all week. They’re almost as bad as Gwen and Leon.”

“Actually, there have been… developments… in that regard.”

For once Arthur had gossip that hadn’t yet reached Merlin.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Guinevere made a point to catch Leon last night. Not that he minded. They left together.”

“Good,” said Merlin. “I told her he felt the same way. They’ve been making eyes at each other since Beltane.”

Hmm… Mistletoe kisses weren’t obligatory, could be a simple bit of fun, or might be the start of something bigger. Arthur was learning a lot and he wasn’t even at the tavern.

“I had worried,” Merlin continued, “after Leon saw me kissing her the other day.”

“You kissed Guinevere?”

“It was only a peck to help her evade Tyr. We’d all come to a door together and I pulled her through with me so she wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of telling him off. But Leon came around the corner and…”

“Just how many people have you kissed this winter?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Because I fell in love with you years ago, desperately want you to love me back, and am far more jealous than I have any right to be, Arthur thought silently.

“I’m the king and you’re my servant. I need to know what kind of trouble you’re getting into.”

Arthur was pretty sure Merlin didn’t believe him, but he said nothing about it, instead smiling at Arthur in a way that made him wish a sorcerer was nearby to conjure much-needed mistletoe.

“If you must know, only Gwen and only the once. She’s my friend and besotted with Leon. I have to wonder, though, how many people _you’ve_ kissed.”

“Me?”

“Well, as you said, you are the king. It would stand to reason that there are many single women in Camelot who would be after you.”

“Merlin, I didn’t even know about this custom until last night. Though come to think of it, that might explain the offended look Lord Myrick’s daughter gave me last week.”

“She’s still mad, in case you’re wondering.”

“What about you?” Arthur asked, trying his very best at nonchalance. “Are you trying to catch anyone under the mistletoe this year?”

“I… um…”

Merlin’s face turned a shade similar to that of Leon’s from the previous night. That meant there was someone. Arthur was too late.

“You can’t tell a lie to save your life. Out with it.”

At the very least Arthur needed to know who it was that had won Merlin’s affections.

“It… doesn’t matter.”

“Merlin, I am the king and I say it does.”

“It really doesn’t because it’s no one who would ever feel the same about me. Now come on, we need to get you ready for your first meeting. I’ll run and grab a vial of Gaius’s hangover remedy while you finish eating.”

Left alone with his bread and cheese, Arthur pondered what Merlin had said. Who could Merlin possibly want who wouldn’t return his feelings? Merlin was about as close to perfect as a person could be. It would be an honor to be the one he loved.

The only logical explanation, Arthur supposed after mulling it over, would be someone who had already fallen for another. Like Guinevere and Leon. Or apparently Percival and Gwaine. Could it be one of them? It had to be.

Leon and Merlin had always been good friends, but Arthur had never really witnessed anything resembling a spark between them. The same could be said for Percival. Which meant that it either had to be Guinevere or Gwaine. They were Merlin’s close friends and he had been known to flirt with them both. But he’d said his kiss with Guinevere had only been to save her from Tyr… it had to be Gwaine.

He hadn’t seemed all that upset earlier when discussing Gwaine’s attraction to Percival, but then Merlin had always been one to put his friends’ happiness ahead of his own, something that Arthur knew firsthand. It was sad to think that Merlin would have no one to kiss under the mistletoe this Yule.

Of course Arthur was in the same position – he, too, very much wanted to kiss someone whose heart was taken by another.

Pushing around his leftover fruit, Arthur wished he’d never learned about the mistletoe tradition.

**********

The problem with learning about mistletoe was that once Arthur knew, he couldn’t help but find it everywhere he went. Only a few days earlier, he’d been happily unaware that it was anything other than a weed that choked trees. Now, each time he caught a glimpse of a sprig, all he could think about was kissing Merlin and how that would never happen.

Matters weren’t helped by the fact that the castle inhabitants seemed overly enthusiastic about decorating with it this year. Arthur expected a bit of greenery in the leadup to Yule, but this year’s offerings bordered on excessive.

Mistletoe had been strung up periodically through the hallways, leading to careful navigation of castle corridors. (And one betrothal, as Lord Myrick’s daughter finally followed the true calling of her heart. This was happy news for Guinevere, as it meant Tyr had moved on, true love’s kiss apparently being a real thing.)

A sprig appeared over the entrance to the council chamber, causing all advisors to enter in an orderly, single-file manner. The one above the armory door had the same effect on most of the knights, though Arthur couldn’t help but notice the way that Gwaine and Percival both lingered, neither quite bold enough to approach the other when stopped underneath.

Leon and Guinevere seemed rather pleased with the recent developments in décor, pausing for mistletoe kisses so frequently that for the first time that Arthur could ever remember, Leon arrived late to deliver his garrison report, face flushed and ears pink.

Through it all, Merlin kept close to Arthur’s side, eying the foliage with disdain.

His reaction made sense, Arthur supposed. After all, Merlin was nursing a broken heart. Arthur could fully sympathize. It hurt to be constantly bombarded with reminders that something as simple as a leafy twig could be the key to true love and happiness.

Still, it was, all-in-all, a harmless tradition. Why should the brokenhearted ruin the fun of those happily in love?

It was when the hateful weed appeared in Arthur’s chambers that he decided things had gotten out of hand.

“Who put that there?” he asked Merlin two days later as he stepped out of the bath.

Merlin, eyes averted, was handing him a towel.

“Put what where?”

“That mistletoe above my door. Because I could’ve sworn it wasn’t there earlier.”

“I…”

“Have you lent my keys to anyone?”

“No.”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“No!”

“You gave them to Guinevere didn’t you? Fine, but don’t do it again. That woman is on a mission to make my life more complicated than it needs to be.”

It was the only explanation that made sense. Ever since their night at the tavern, she’d been using a series of not so subtle nods to try to convince Arthur to corner Merlin under the mistletoe.

“I’ll take it down.”

Merlin dragged a chair over to the door so he could reach it.

“I wonder how Guinevere got up there. You’re having to stand on your tiptoes even with the chair. Be careful! I bet she had Leon help her.”

“What makes you think it was Gwen?”

‘She’s somehow figured out that I’m secretly in love with you and is convinced you feel the same way even though there’s no way that could be true’ was the honest answer.

“I think she believes mistletoe will bring everyone true love the way it did for her and Leon. Why? Do you think it was someone else?”

“I… just curious, that’s all. I’ll just take this… somewhere.”

He disappeared before Arthur could call after him.

Why did Merlin seem so worried? Arthur wasn’t upset that he’d let Guinevere in. Perhaps it was the mistletoe reminding him of the kisses he wasn’t getting from Gwaine. Merlin needed a distraction – maybe it would be for the best to give him one of his Yule presents early.

**********

The next morning Arthur awoke to Merlin humming softly as he laid out Arthur’s clothes. Was it wrong that Arthur wanted this every morning? Yes, Merlin showed up in his chambers daily – it was his job after all. But, in moments like this, when Arthur wasn’t fully awake and reality was still somewhat distant, he could imagine that Merlin lived here with him, not as a servant but as… more.

“Come on. I know you’re awake. Let’s get you up. You have a busy day ahead.”

Arthur groaned but did as he was told, pleased that Merlin was wearing the purple neckerchief he’d given him night before. Padding across the room to wash his face, Arthur saw it.

“I can’t believe they snuck in while I was asleep.”

“Who?”

“Guinevere and Leon – the mistletoe is back. I don’t know how I slept through it. You’ll need to take it down again. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to them.”

“You really don’t need to…”

“They aren’t in trouble Merlin – but you do have other things to do with your time besides clean up after them. Like helping me with these sausages. The kitchen sent too many.”

It was midmorning when Arthur took Leon aside on the training ground.

“I appreciate what you and Guinevere are trying to do, but it’s not necessary.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sire.”

Of course Leon would try to keep Guinevere out of trouble.

“It’s not a problem, Leon. Just let her know that this isn’t the kind of situation that a plant can sort. Sometimes things aren’t meant to be.”

Leon’s face softened.

“It will work out, Arthur,” he said, his voice low. “He’s completely besotted – he looks at you the way Gwen looks at me.”

So Guinevere had shared her theory with Leon. Arthur supposed it was to be expected, what with the recent change in their relationship. Lovers told each other everything, or so he’d heard.

“I…”

“And you might consider trying the mistletoe. It can be quite effective.”

Would Leon ever stop blushing like that when he spoke of Guinevere? Probably not.

A sharp whistle cut into their conversation. On the opposite side of the pitch, Guinevere stood bundled up against the cold, her hands making the shape of a heart as she beamed at Leon.

“That smile,” Leon said. “That’s the one. Watch him. You’ll see.”

**********

Training didn’t last long, the winter air making it too cold to stay out for more than an hour.

Merlin was missing, again called away to help Gaius with some chore or other, so Arthur headed back alone.

As he entered his chambers, more than ready to warm up by the fire, he found it. It was impossible to miss as it bounced off his forehead on its way to the floor. Yet another spring of mistletoe had been hung inside his chambers, dislodged as he opened the door.

Guinevere must have come back when… Arthur wasn’t sure. She really hadn’t had time and neither had Leon. So how did get there?

Tossing it on the table, he began to strip, darting behind the changing screen when the door suddenly opened.

“Sorry, Gaius had me…”

“Yes, well, all of Camelot almost got a view of the royal backside. You really should learn to knock. Have you seen my red tunic? I couldn’t find it and…”

He poked his head out from behind the screen, checking to make sure the door was closed.

“Did you hang that back?”

The mistletoe that had fallen on Arthur only a few minutes before was once again hanging above his door. Except it wasn’t. As he crossed the room, clad only in his breeches, he found the original offering still on the table where he’d left it.

“Merlin!”

“I… um… what?”

Arthur spun around – Merlin had been in the process of making his bed, a half-folded blanket clutched in his hand. Though his brow was creased with worry, his eyes were fixed on Arthur’s chest. Absentmindedly, he licked his lips.

For the briefest of moments, Arthur wondered if there was some truth in what Leon had said. Maybe Merlin did feel the same…

The sudden glint of green dangling from the canopy over the bed cut off Arthur’s train of thought, his senses going to full alert.

“Merlin, I need you to step away from the bed.”

He was trying his best to keep his voice steady. He didn’t want to frighten Merlin.

“Let me finish with this quilt.”

“There’s no need. Come over here.”

“Just as soon as…”

“Now, Merlin!”

Arthur worried that his tone was too harsh but at least it had worked.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” he said as Merlin stepped beside him, “but I think there’s sorcery at work.”

“Sorcery?”

“Look above the headboard. That mistletoe wasn’t there when I came in the room and the sprig above the door has been replaced with a new cutting. You and I are the only two people who’ve been in here. I didn’t hang it and you haven’t had time. It has to be magic.”

“It… um… maybe… I didn’t…”

Merlin’s incomprehensible muttering could only mean he was very scared. Of course he would be afraid – he couldn’t properly wield a sword and here they were, facing down some type of magical threat in the heart of Camelot. Without thinking, Arthur wrapped a protective arm around Merlin’s shoulders to calm him.

They stood in the middle of the room, staring at the offensive plant. The more time Arthur had to ponder the situation, the less he understood it. Why would a vindictive sorcerer conjure mistletoe over his door and his bed? And above his windows, Arthur realized, updating his mental list as new sprigs popped into existence.

What could possibly be the point of this kind of magical assault? It was annoying to have his chambers filled with the plant, but otherwise the whole affair was harmless. It made no sense. A sorcerer with such power could easily conjure poisonous herbs in his food or…

“I’m sorry.”

Arthur stopped theorizing. The mistletoe didn’t appear to be dangerous and there were more pressing matters at hand, namely Merlin’s forlorn tone.

“This isn’t your fault,” Arthur said, taking his eyes off of the plants to face Merlin.

“It really is,” Merlin said, voice cracking. “I thought I had it under control. But…”

“But what?”

“I just wanted to kiss you. You’d asked me who I wanted to find under the mistletoe and I couldn’t stop thinking about it and…”

“You want to kiss me?”

“Of course I want to kiss you.”

“But Gwaine…”

“What about him?”

“The other day, when you said that there was someone you wanted to kiss who didn’t feel the same about you. I thought it was Gwaine.”

“No, cabbagehead. It was you. It’s always been you. I’m sorry. I never meant for you to find out. About any of it. I know you need time to decide what to do with me and…”

“I really don’t.”

“You’re not going to think it over?”

Of course he wasn’t going to think it over! Arthur had never been more sure of anything in his life. Merlin, _his_ Merlin, the man he had loved in secret for years, wanted to kiss him. What was there to think about?

“I can’t see why I would. There’s really only one option in this circumstance.”

Arthur felt Merlin’s body start to tremble under his arm.

“I… ok. The law is the law. You can’t make exceptions simply because…”

“The law? What are you talking about?”

“Magic. And how it’s very illegal.”

“Oh. That.”

All thoughts of magic had disappeared from Arthur’s mind when he’d learned that Merlin wanted to kiss him and not Gwaine. He supposed that he should care, but it didn’t seem all that important. So what if Merlin had found a sorcerer to conjure mistletoe for him? That was hardly a malicious use of magic.

“You’re right. I can’t show favoritism. I suppose we’ll need to make a few minor revisions to a couple of statutes. That will take care of the legal issues.”

“You’re going…”

“Wait. I’m not finished.”

Arthur knew that if he stopped, his courage might fail him. Using his free hand, he cupped Merlin’s cheek, gently turning his head so that their eyes met.

“And then, if you haven’t changed your mind, I would very much like to kiss you. Under the mistletoe. Or not. Doesn’t really matter. I just want to…”

The rustling of leaves cut Arthur off. Directly above them, yet another sprig of mistletoe had popped into existence. That was all the encouragement Arthur needed.

Finally, he thought as his lips touched Merlin’s. Then he lost the ability to form words, his mind preoccupied with more important matters.

There was a sequence of unspoken negotiation as they worked out the positioning of arms and legs and noses and teeth. Even with the logistical maneuverings, Arthur’s ever-present self-doubt never once surfaced. How could it when Merlin was clinging to him like that, kissing him as though he’d wanted Arthur for years?

Arthur could worry about what it all meant and evaluate his technique later. For now, what choice did he have but to try to match the love and desire that Merlin was pouring into the kiss?

“Your sorcerer is very good,” Arthur said, when they finally broke apart for air.

Arthur kept his arms wrapped tightly around Merlin, enjoying the sensation of Merlin’s body pressed into his.

“My sorcerer?”

“The one you found to conjure all the mistletoe. He did get somewhat carried away earlier, but that last sprig was perfect.”

Merlin stiffened.

“Arthur, about that. There’s not…”

“I want to thank him. Do you think I could meet him?”

“I… you already have.”

Arthur tried to remember sorcerers he’d met over years. Most had been murderous so who could have… ah.

“It’s that doddering old man, isn’t it? What was his name? Dragon… Dragoon… the one who said I looked like a toad. I remember him. There was something about his eyes…”

He hadn’t thought of Dragoon in years, but standing in his chambers, resting his forehead against Merlin’s, a mystery from the past suddenly came together.

“Merlin, look at me.”

“Arthur, I…”

“He’s a relative – an uncle or a grandfather or…”

“Not quite. It was me.”

Did that mean what Arthur thought it meant? Merlin tried to slip away but Arthur wasn’t having it. Not until some things were sorted out.

“Are you saying that you were the old sorcerer or that you were the one who conjured the mistletoe?”

“Both.” Merlin’s whisper was almost too low for Arthur to hear. “Dragoon was a way to save Gwen from your father.”

“And the mistletoe?”

“Was an accident. My magic knew how much I wanted to kiss you and it kind of got carried away.”

“So, said Arthur, stalling for time to process this revelation, “it was you who said I had the face of a toad.”

“I… yes. But I didn’t mean it. I rather like your face. And other parts of you, too.”

Arthur was pretty sure his blush was matching that of Merlin’s.

“You do?”

“Of course I do. You’re gorgeous – obscenely so. But it doesn’t matter. Now that you know, what are you going to do with me?”

Arthur considered this question carefully. He could feel the tension in Merlin’s shoulders. It was important not to get this wrong.

“I’m going to have a very long conversation with you, in which I ask you a lot of questions and you will answer them all honestly. Then, as punishment for lying to me, I will sentence you to revising Camelot’s law code. I suspect you’re the expert I need to bring about sensible regulation of magic. But before all of that…”

“Yes?”

“We really should make use of all of this mistletoe. We can start with the sprig still floating above us…”

Arthur gave Merlin a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“Then,” he continued, breaking their embrace to take Merlin by the hand, “we should probably make sure that the door is locked.”

After tending to the latch, he leaned in to peck Merlin on the lips.

“It’s vital that the curtains are drawn,” Arthur said, leading Merlin with him to the window.

Did any of the people going about their business in the courtyard below see him kissing Merlin as he pulled the drapes shut? If so, would they be able to tell that Merlin was grabbing his hips in a way that could only be classified as less than chaste? Arthur didn’t have time to care.

“And now that we’ve taken care of all of that, I think we really should investigate the sprig hanging above my headboard.”

Merlin nearly tripped over his own feet as Arthur led him toward the bed.

“Here. Sit. I’ll deal with these.”

In all the years they’d known one another, it had always been Merlin who had helped Arthur out of his boots. Not once had he knelt at Merlin’s feet. The hitch in Merlin’s breath as he lifted an ankle told Arthur that he should revisit this position in the future.

Divested of his boots, Merlin shrugged out his jacket as Arthur joined him.

“Let me,” Arthur said, reaching for his neckerchief. “There. That’s better. Scoot over.”

Arthur paused for a moment to marvel at the course the day had taken. An hour earlier, he believed Guinevere and Leon were stealthily engaging in a futile attempt at matchmaking. But now, clad only in his breeches, Arthur was sitting on his bed next to Merlin, underneath mistletoe that had been called into existence for no other reason than the fact that Merlin wanted to kiss him. The thought was enough to make Arthur feel lightheaded.

A warm hand on his shoulder steadied him.

“If you changed your mind, it’s ok. We don’t have to…”

“Do you want to?” Arthur asked.

“More than anything.”

“Good. So do I.”

Not much was said over the next few hours, as Arthur found there were far better uses for his mouth than talking. Which wasn’t to say that he or Merlin were completely silent, what with the whispered confessions, soft gasps, and occasional bouts of laughter.

It doesn’t change anything, Arthur thought just before he drifted off to sleep, a sated Merlin curled up next to him. Not really.

Yes, there would be some difficult conversations. Merlin had much to explain and Arthur had to deal with the regret of not making him feel safe enough to confess in the first place. And no, Arthur had no intention of sleeping alone again, provided that Merlin never wanted to leave. But even with all of that, it was still the two of them. As it should be.

**********

“Let’s have you, lazy daisy.”

A groan was the only reply.

“Rise and shine, Merlin. It’s a new day.”

“Is the sun even up yet?”

“It will be soon. Come on. There’s something we have to do.”

Half an hour later, Merlin finally left the bed. Arthur had quickly realized that he would need to develop a defense against Merlin’s kisses. They were a powerful distraction.

“What about breakfast?” Merlin asked as they hurried through castle corridors.

“It can wait. First we need to… here this should work.”

Arthur stopped just outside of the hallway that led to the knights’ chambers, pulling Merlin behind a column.

“See that archway over there. Can you conjure mistletoe above it from here?”

Merlin considered it for a second, then nodded.

“Should I…”

“Not yet. I’ll tell you when.”

They stood in silence for what felt like an eternity. Though he’d never been the most patient man, Arthur found he didn’t mind. How could he be annoyed when Merlin’s fingers were intertwined with his own?

Sunlight was beginning to stream in through the castle windows when Arthur heard what he’d been waiting for.

“Which isn’t to say that you’re too tall,” a familiar voice called out. “It’s just, if someone wanted to kiss you, they’d have to get a ladder and…”

“Now Merlin,” Arthur whispered.

Hopefully his plan would work. He felt Merlin lean against him as they both peered around the column to watch what happened next.

“What was that?” Gwaine asked.

“I… look up,” Percival replied.

Perfectly positioned from the archway under which they stood was a sprig of freshly conjured mistletoe.

“It’s…”

“It is.”

“Should we?”

“I.. I don’t have a ladder.”

“Not a problem, little man,” Percival said as he leaned down to kiss Gwaine.

A moment passed, then another. Arthur wanted to step out to congratulate them, but his knights appeared to be occupied for the foreseeable future.

“We should probably go,” he whispered to Merlin. “It’s rude to stare and anyway, I have some ideas about how we could spend the afternoon.”

**********

Arthur had imagined a hasty retreat to his chambers. What he hadn’t counted on was how their progress would be hampered by Merlin’s insistence that they stop to kiss under the numerous sprays of mistletoe strung up along the castle hallways.

“I know it’s stupid, but right now we can do this in public and no one can say anything,” Merlin had explained when Arthur gave him an exasperated look. “When Yule is over…”

“I’ll make it a point to kiss you senseless on the balcony overlooking the courtyard each day at noon. We’ll make it a tradition. Then you can do magic tricks for the spectators’ amusement to make up for your years of deception.”

“But the people will say…”

“That I’m the luckiest man in Camelot. Honestly, Merlin, if you think I’m going to keep us a secret, then you really are as stupid as you are beautiful.”

Merlin smiled at him in a way that left Arthur with no choice but to kiss him one more time. They would make it back to the privacy of his chambers soon enough.

They had drawn out that particular kiss longer than custom dictated when Arthur felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.

“I told you mistletoe would work,” Guinevere said, when he turned to face her. “It’s magical.”

“More than you know,” he replied, unable to stop himself from returning the smile she offered him. “Care to join us for breakfast?”

What he really wanted was to have Merlin for breakfast, but Guinevere had been the one who had told him about the mistletoe. A shared meal was the least he could offer her.

“I appreciate the invitation but…” There was that blush again. “I kind of already have plans. With Leon. He, um, promised to write me a poem last night. He’s supposed to read it to me this morning.”

“We’ll leave you to your poetry then. Tell Leon training is cancelled until after Yule, so he has the day free. Come along Merlin.”

And with that, Arthur led Merlin on to his chambers where they could spend the rest of the afternoon making use of the mistletoe.


End file.
